


takes two to tango

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Love/Hate, Most of the time, On Hiatus, and i'll never change, classy assassins, enemies to lovers and it flip flops a lot throughout, i only write one thing and that's enemies to lovers with a whole lot of background violence, suits and ties and guns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-11 04:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15965129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ryan and Shane have a history; two relatively-good assassins who work for cooperating organizations. But when the organizations split, they're forced apart. Two years later, and they're put on the same mission; to retrieve a particularly valuable briefcase. And this time, cooperation is off the table.





	1. Same Ol'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"And the truth would never die,_  
>  _It would be just like I remembered_  
>  _When you swallowed my pride._  
>  _When you were talking that same ol'_  
>  _And kept making that same ol'_  
>  _And kept working that same ol', ol'_  
>  _Fool out of me."_ \- 'Same Ol', The Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYHKNHsbmNs1fuV1D7WPxdZrE_veoMbu0
> 
> mmm playlist inspo babyyyy

Glitz. Glamor. Greed. Granola bars. Ryan frowned, taking his hand from his suit pocket, scowling at the few crumbs stuck to his fingers. He hadn't worn this suit since the last... task. He'd ended up having to hide out for a week, living on granola bars and water from the bathroom sink. He dusted off his hands, turning his eyes back to the room. He started the checklist again.

Glitz. Glamor. Greed. Girls. Gold. Lots of gold. The room was a haze of it, champagne and sparkly dresses and dyed hair and cigarette smoke fogging it all. The marble reflected every flash of light. Ryan rolled up his sleeves as he moved through the crowd, tucking his white shirt sleeves over the black of his suit ones. Had to appear casual. He belonged here. He definitely belonged here. He wasn't way out of his social depth at all. 

" _I can't see him_." Curly's voice buzzed in his ear. " _Or the case. But then again, if the case is gold, we're fucked_."

Ryan pretended to rub his lower back, slipping his hand under the jacket, double-checking the gun was still tucked nice and firm in his belt. "I knew you shouldn't have been on lookout. It should've been Andrew."

" _Hey, what? Why?_ " Curly appeared overhead, folding his arms on the wrought iron railing. He might as well have dunked himself in melted gold he was so glittery; earrings, necklaces, rings, all of it. " _Andrew isn't better than me, honey._ "

"He's the only one who doesn't wear glasses," muttered Ryan, ducking his head to hide his mouth.

" _Fuck lookout_ ," came Andrew's monotonous voice. " _I want drama and action. Like you always get, Ryan_."

"I don't always get drama and action."

" _Speaking of,_ " interrupted Curly, taking a sip of champagne. " _Guess who just turned up_."

Ryan immediately lifted his head, eyes sharp. "Where?"

" _Bar. And looking good too, Ryan."_ Curly grinned as he saw Ryan begin to weave through the crowd for a closer look _. "Ugh, he looks so rugged with that stubble."_

"Shut up." 

"Well that's Ryan done for the night." Andrew laughed as he passed by him in the crowd, giving him a sly nudge. "See you tomorrow!"

Ryan ignored them, slowing to a wander as he got nearer to the bar. He could see the end of it stretching into the crowd, all shiny dark wood. And leaning back against it, elbows propped up and legs crossed in the typical cocky manner, was him. Ryan felt a kick of adrenaline just at the sight of the other man, muttering a curse as he realized Curly hadn't been messing around; Shane looked good. Really good. White shirt unbuttoned a tasteful amount, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair appropriately tousled in a manner that said " _yeah, I just rolled out of bed, but was I sleeping or was I fucking?_ " Ryan slipped behind a small group of chattering people, knowing that if Shane was still the same, it was probably the latter. 

"Who's he talking to?" asked Ryan, giving his jaw a distracted scratch. "Someone important?"

" _Or someone you should be jealous of?_ " grinned Curly.

"I'm not- Look, if Shane's here, that's a threat." Ryan ignored the odd looks thrown his way, not caring that it looked as if he was talking to himself. After a while, stuff like that doesn't matter as much. "He's probably here for the same reason we are. So-"

" _You're gonna talk to him, and you're gonna end up going at it in the bathrooms_ ," finished Andrew dryly. " _Just like Paris_."

"I'm not gonna..." Ryan leaned back, peering around the small group. Shane was gone, the man he had been talking to left looking baffled. “What..?”

He felt the hand settle on his back, pulling him back upright, as if he had just been dipped in a dance. Shane took hold of his hand, already pulling him into the rest of the dancers, so quickly Ryan didn’t even get to process what was happening to him. One hand was held firmly in Shane’s, the other holding Shane’s arm where it rested around his waist. He raised his gaze to meet the taller man’s, feeling the heat rush to his face. 

“Spying on me, were you?” asked Shane with a half-smile, most definitely leading the dance, pulling Ryan after him as he brought them further into the crowd, away from any watchful eyes. “So covert, Bergara. But you always were the expert.”

Ryan didn’t know what to say back. He was a tad speechless, for multiple reasons. “Couldn’t just say ‘hello’, no?”

“Couldn’t you?” 

Ryan rolled his eyes, turning his head aside. He could feel the taller man’s body firm against his. “You know, you’re meant to leave room for Jesus.”

“Eh. He’ll get over it.” Shane let his gaze travel over the shorter man’s head, making sure they kept turning so that Ryan couldn’t get a firm view of anything. “What has you frequenting such a classy establishment, hm?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” muttered Ryan, pushing forwards, bringing them to a sudden halt. He heard Shane give a grunt of disapproval. “Although you did always like going places you didn’t belong.”

Shane smiled at him, an almost friendly gesture. “You don’t want to dance?”

“Not with you.”

"That's just too bad." Shane kept a tight grip on the shorter man, feeling him trying to back away. "Don't start attracting attention now, little guy. That's Rule Number One in the handbook."

"The handbook?"

"How To Assassin 101. You haven't read it?"

Ryan rolled his eyes, slipping his hand up to rest on the back of Shane's neck. "No, but I have some other knowledge. Very valuable stuff."

Shane looked down at him from under heavy lids, feeling Ryan's fingers soft against his neck. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm. Like, did you know there's a pressure point right here?" Ryan's grip on the taller man's neck suddenly got a bit firmer, making Shane freeze, keeping his head still as he gave the shorter man a warning look. "It's the _carotid sinus_ , I believe. And in that, is a baroreceptor." His voice had gone soft, quiet, just for the two of them to hear as they continued moving slowly among the other dancers. "It's what your body uses to detect blood pressure."

"Very interesting," muttered Shane, an eyebrow raised.

"If I hit it hard enough, your body will think your blood pressure's skyrocketed," continued Ryan, not taking his eyes from the taller man's as he spoke. "And because of that, it'll lower your blood pressure. And then you'll pass out. Instantaneously."

Shane took his hand from Ryan's waist, raising it to remove the threatening grip from his neck. "The dancefloor is no place for dirty talk, Ryan."

Ryan smiled up at him, Shane's hand still holding his firmly, thumb pressing into his palm. "Then how about we get off the dancefloor."

Shane bit back a grin, shaking his head as he turned his gaze aside. "Damn it, Ryan. You've got me all flustered."

"And did you know that _here_ ," said Ryan quietly, running his other hand up the taller man's back, lightly along his spine. He let it come to a rest between his shoulder blades. "Is a bunch of cardiac nerves. Controls breathing and your heart. So much so that if I hit it _just_ right, you'd be out like a light."

Shane slipped his hands around the shorter man's waist, pulling him firmly against him, Ryan's hands settled nice and warm on his shoulders. "And do you think you could hit it just right?"

"Do you think I could?"

" _This conversation has got me hot and bothered, and I need you to stop_." Curly let out a squeal anyway. " _God you guys are so cute!_ "

" _No they're not. They're threatening each other but somehow making it sound like flirting_." Andrew sounded bored of it all. He probably was. He'd been around since the start. " _Ryan, either hit him or don't hit him_."

Shane began glancing up at the balconies, eyes narrowed. "You've got company, hm?"

Ryan turned the taller man's head back to look at him, turning them so that Shane's back was to the unmistakable figure of Curly up on the balcony. "And what would make you think that?"

"Because you can't control your face," replied Shane, turning them again, with such force Ryan stumbled a bit. "You never could. Someone's talking to you."

"Well you're clearly wearing a wire," retorted Ryan, glaring up at him, quickly changing it to a smile as he saw another pair of dancers give them a concerned look. "I mean, did you even try to hide it?"

"No," replied Shane simply, wincing as Ryan's grip tightened on his hand. "Jesus, Bergara. Leave my fingers intact. I need them."

"Oh, I'm sure you do."

"You know I do."

Ryan gave him a dry look, getting a bright smile in return. "You're the scum of the earth, Shane Madej."

" _Target_ ," came Curly's alarmed voice. " _Targettargettarget. Side door_."

Simultaneously, Shane and Ryan turned their heads to look at the door in question, which had just finished closing. Then they fixed each other with sidelong looks, waiting. Waiting to see who would move first. 

"So we _are_ here for the same thing."

Shane gracefully turned them again, feeling the shorter man's body staying flush against his. "And what makes you think that?"

"Well unless you can hear _my_ earpiece - which you can't - then someone's talking to you." Ryan took hold of Shane's wrist, taking the sneaky hand away from the gun still tucked into his belt. "One chance. You get one chance to back off."

Shane laughed dryly. "I love it when you try and act tough, Bergara. It's very cute."

"I now retract the chance I was going to give you." Ryan took Shane's hands away from his body, simply holding them, almost sweetly. "May the best man win."

"Aw, thanks."

Shane slipped away before Ryan could come up with an appropriate comeback. He had the advantage; he could see further in the crowd than most people. Definitely more than Ryan. He moved towards the doors, focused, apart from the lingering feeling of Ryan's hands holding his. _Come on, Shane. Work_. He could see a short man with a grey mustache heading towards the double doors, which lead to a long hallway, which lead to the exit. He picked up the pace.

" _Oh, now you're ready to work?_ " Sara snorted. " _You know, sometimes I wonder if you're trying to impress our boss, or if you're trying to impress Ryan_."

"Can you see the little bastard?" asked Shane, throwing a quick glance around. But it was like trying to spot a needle among a haystack. "He has a gun."

" _And you think he'll shoot you?_ " A giggle, which Steven quickly stifled. " _Last I checked, it's true love's first kiss that breaks the spell. Not true love's first gunshot_."

"It wouldn't be the first one," muttered Shane, catching the door behind the mustached man before it could close. He peered behind him before closing it over, subtle, quiet. 

The case was in the man's hand, metallic silver. And within it, a tape of a prominent political figure that they did _not_ want to be seen. Shane could only guess it was a sex tape, or something along those lines. The mustached man finally spotted him, bushy eyebrows raised as Shane came towards him, busy taking the plastic cap off a tiny syringe.

"Can I help-"

"Shh." Shane stuck the needle into the shorter man's neck, catching him as he passed out almost instantly. "I hope you don't mind waking up in a toilet stall."

"Sloppy."

Shane paused, on one knee, his fingers just having slid around the handle. "I win, Bergara." He glowered over his shoulder as Ryan closed the double doors behind him, the sounds of the party dulling once again. "I win this one. You know the rules."

"The rules are that you have to get the target outside the location," said Ryan, occupied with the silencer he was readjusting on his gun. "It's still in the building. So step aside, and let me take the case."

"Are you serious?" Shane straightened up, one hand on his tilted hip, the other holding the briefcase. Very sassy altogether. "That's bullshit. I got the target first."

" _Is this seriously a game to you?_ " Sara sounded very disapproving, her frown palpable. " _Get rid of Ryan, and get the case to us_."

"It's honor, Sara," he replied, not taking his eyes from the shorter man's as Ryan continued right up the patterned carpet towards him. "Which is something I don't have at all. In any way."

Ryan raised the gun, and pulled the trigger. And Shane had the metal case up just in time to deflect the bullet. Which bounced off the case, and off the gold of the chandelier, and straight down behind Shane to land in the head of the unconscious man on the floor. Ryan had frozen, eyes wide, gun still raised. Shane refused to turn around. Maybe if he didn't look, the colossal fuck-up would just melt away, like the blood currently melting into the carpet. 

" _Well?_ " Steven sounded worried. " _Shane? You alive?_ "

"Uh... Yeah. Yeah, I'm alive." He'd already chucked the case aside, raising the dead man's head and shoulders off the floor so that Ryan could wrap his black suit jacket around the fatal wound, an effort to soak up the blood. "Gimme a minute."

Ryan had already turned his own earpiece and mic off, eyes comically wide as he looked down at the body. "Fuck. Oh fuck. Why did you have to do that, you idiot?"

Shane stared up at him, bewildered. "Are you fucking serious? You tried to shoot me!"

"It wouldn't have been fatal!"

"Hey, I'm the marksman here. And that would've hit me right in the chest." Shane gestured for the shorter man to take hold of the other end of the dead body. "Look, the exit is right there. Let's just... Let's just get rid of this. Don't tell the others."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Cool." Ryan watched as Shane took the case again, slipping the handle over his wrist. "Oh c'mon, dude. Not fair."

"I win this by default because _you_ fucked up," replied Shane moodily. "Trigger-happy as always, huh?"

Ryan rolled his eyes, sparing a glance back over his shoulder at the doors to the party before following Shane out the exit. The lands in front of the manor were incredible, sweeping gardens and a gravel driveway big enough to fit an airplane. And most importantly, the river that ran through the town passed by this particular manor. It glistened in the moonlight, like black ink. They silently agreed that this was the way to go. For now.

"This is a bit nostalgic, right?"

Shane sighed heavily, wishing that they weren't both wearing glaringly bright white shirts. "Well, yeah, I guess. If you're referring to you screwing this up for us."

"There's no 'us' anymore, Madej." Ryan shrugged, the gravel turning to soft grass under his feet. "You chose your side, and I chose mine."

"Not now."

"Not ever again. Thanks to you."

"Not now, Ryan. Jesus." Shane came to a halt, readjusting his grip on the body, glaring at Ryan's darkened features. "Just one time. Just one time without you bringing this up."

"Fine! Whatever." Ryan pushed forwards, indicating for Shane to start walking again. "You know, you stood out a mile in there. You could've at least brushed your stupid hair."

“Yeah, alright, but at least I don’t insist on rolling up my sleeves everywhere I go,” hissed Shane, walking backwards. “Which you only do to show off your arms!”

“I-”

“It’s not that hard to just keep the sleeves down, Bergara.” He sounded strangely bitter, eyes narrowed. “But no, you always gotta have them out. In everyone’s faces. Even now. You don’t need to roll your sleeves up so high.”

“Don’t sound quite so jealous, Madej. Just because you’re built like a pencil.”

“At least I’m over five foot.”

“Oh, classic. You really got me there.”

“And I am _not_ built like a pencil,” replied Shane, almost dropping the body he was so intent on arguing his case. “I am- I am a strong man. A tall, imposing individual.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “The only reason you’d scare people would be in case you fall over, and crush their house across town.”

“Oh, bite me.”

The body made a loud splash as it hit the water. Shane dusted his hands off, straightening up, watching Ryan as the shorter man stretched out his back like an old man. 

“I’m not going to mention this,” said Ryan, giving him a sidelong look as he turned away. “I hope you won’t either.”

“Definitely not.” Shane stayed where he was, slipping the case off his wrist, holding it by his side like a washerwoman's basket. “I’m going to vanish for the night. Reappear in the morning.” A pause. “With a completely clean slate.”

Ryan came to a halt a few meters away, hand halfway to his earpiece. But he hadn’t turned it back on. Not yet. “And where are you going to vanish to.”

“A lovely hotel off the beaten track. Found it on Trivago.”

“I don’t care where you- Whatever.” Ryan tapped his gun against his hand as he thought about this veiled proposal, half-turning to look at the taller man. “Gonna be a long night for you. All alone.”

Shane’s smile was hidden in the dark, but it was so clear in his voice that it didn’t matter. “Is it?”

“It’s up to me, hm?”

“Mm. You’ve seduced me once again, Ryan.”

Ryan laughed. “You think I’m the seductor here?”

A shrug of silhouetted shoulders. “I give back what I get given.”

“Right.” Ryan wandered a few steps closer, still tapping his gun off his hand. Pensively. _Tap. Tap. Tap_. “We could get fired.”

“We’d get more than fired, little guy.” Shane kept his hands to himself for now, refusing to be the igniter of this flickering fire. “But I’ll make it worth it.”

“You’re all talk, Madej.”

“I can walk the walk too, Ryan. You know I can.”

Unfortunately, he was right. Ryan bit his lip as he tried to convince himself to turn away, to flee the scene of the crime. And the potential crime about to happen.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” continued Shane with a half-smile, his eyes following Ryan’s darkened features as the shorter man came ever closer.

“You’re both,” said Ryan quietly, slipping his gun back into his belt.

Shane's voice was just as quiet. “Then it’s your choice tonight.”

A silence.

“Okay,“ said Ryan. "I want both.”

* * *

The door slammed back against the wall it was forced open so suddenly. Shane didn’t bother going for the light switch, his hands preoccupied, fumbling with the shorter man’s tie as they stumbled into the dark room. He dropped the case, kicking it aside without a care in the world as he moved onto Ryan's shirt buttons, his fingers shaking slightly. Such was the effect Ryan always had on him. 

"Just- Just-" Ryan went to just pull his shirt off over his head, wriggling slightly, feeling Shane's hands on his waist, holding him upright. "Just pull it off!"

Shane did so, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms right around the shorter man, pulling him flush against him, feeling Ryan's breath hot against his mouth as they swiftly found their way to the bed. Shane climbed on top, his heart racing in his chest as he pressed his mouth to Ryan's, the two of them inhaling deeply at the sensation, hands moving to hold the other close. Their lips parted simultaneously, tongues sliding against each other, Ryan's hand fixed on the back of Shane's neck, pulling him in with a low sigh. Shane relaxed against him, no sound in the dark room but their heavy breaths, their erratic moans, the rustle of clothing as ties and shirts and trousers were hastily removed. Nobody called. No one came looking for them. No one talked about their ongoing, international affair at all, really. It was Forbidden. Yes, with a capital F. Their organizations were now fierce rivals, but even if you stick a brick between two magnets, the magnets will still be drawn towards each other. 

Ryan let his eyes flutter closed, his fingers tangled in Shane's thick hair as the taller man's mouth worked against his neck, all passion and desperation and everything he tried to hide in the daylight, but let spill forwards when Ryan was in his arms. Another hotel crossed off the global list. Another room where they'd spend all night wrapped up in each other, then fall asleep in each other's arms, and then wake up and go back to what they had to do; compete. It was tiring, but for nights like this, it was worth it.

* * *

The sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, right across Shane's face. He blinked slowly, rolling onto his back as he ran his fingers through his hair. It took him a moment to notice. He sat upright at the empty space beside him, the absence of the other man's clothes. _Son of a bitch_. He lay back down, rubbing his hands down his face as he laughed to himself. It wasn't bitter. It wasn't sad. It was oddly happy.

"You got me, Ryan." He linked his hands behind his head, watching the ceiling. "You got me good."

As an afterthought, he rolled over in the bed, reaching for the metal case that still lay dumped on the floor. Even as he pulled it over, he knew something was wrong. It was light. It was too fucking light. He pulled it onto the bed, flicking open the catches, closing his eyes as he saw what lay inside. A small note, scribbled on the hotel paper provided.

_Thanks for being such a deep sleeper after sex! - R XX :)_

"No. No, not funny." Shane shut the briefcase forcefully, tossing it aside. He swiftly got changed, checking his watch as he hurried down the corridor. It was 7am. He switched on his earpiece. "Jazz?"

A buzz. "Yo, Shane. What's up."

"My car keys are gone." 

"Gone?"

"Stolen." Along with his actual car. Shane could see the empty space out the window. "Can you track my car too?"

"Mm, give me a minute." Two seconds passed. "It's just twenty minutes drive from- Oh, uh, it's about forty minutes walk from your location."

Shane felt like stomping his foot, like throwing a full-on tantrum in the lobby of the hotel he was currently striding across. The receptionist watched him with just a hint of suspicion; this man was dressed neatly, almost too neatly for the day. His shirt was still fresh and white, yet his hair was tousled and his face unshaven. Sunglasses hung from his loosely-buttoned shirt, which was half-tucked into his trousers. She decided to pass on any questions she might've had to offer.

"Can I- Can I ask a favor?"

"Shane." Jazzmyne sounded wary, as if she didn't know exactly what he was going to ask for. "What favor do I even owe you, man?"

He pushed out the doors onto the empty street, the warm breeze ruffling his hair. "Is the 'copter around?"

"Shane, it's seven in the fucking morning, man." 

"It's important!" He kept his eyes to the brightening sky, hands on his hips. "Pretty please?"

A long silence. Then a weary sigh. "Fine. Fine, head down to the park around the corner. Want anything else while I'm at it? Maybe a nice hot Starbucks?"

"My sniper would be nice."

"It was sarcasm, bro." Then she was gone. 

Shane did pick up a coffee along the way. Ryan had been merciful this time, and hadn't taken his wallet too. Probably because Shane had kept his card sellotaped to the inside of the wardrobe just in case Ryan was going to turn up last night, which had been a lucky guess. He wandered through the park, hearing the sound of a helicopter getting rapidly closer, his nonchalant whistling getting harder to hear as the chopping blades grew louder. 

"Hey, man!" Steven slid open the door, yelling above the noise as Shane crossed towards him, as casual as if he was approaching a taxi. "Come on in!"

Shane slipped his shades on, stepping in to join the other man, holding onto the roof handle. "Enough chit-chat, baby. Follow my car."


	2. Think Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Close your eyes, rewind, I know just what you're thinking_  
>  _Close your eyes and think of me_  
>  _Packed it like a punch, out to lunch_  
>  _I got a little hunch that stood out from the bunch_  
>  _As if that's not enough, I even knew the reason why_  
>  _That goddamn bitch of life, she made me cry_  
>  _So I'd like to poke her squarely in the eye_  
>  _And it hurt so much I feel like I could die."_ \- Think Twice, by Groove Armada

Ryan had the car parked along a side street, sitting on the hood as he flipped through the various scrawls in the dog-eared diary he'd found in it. It was clearly Shane's attempt at getting some sort of grasp on his shenanigans, but it wasn't quite successful. Or maybe it was, to Shane. Ryan himself just couldn't quite get to grips with the messy font. He had the backpack on, nice and firm around his shoulders. Yeah, he'd been organized. He was always prepared for if Shane was going to turn up during a mission. He'd hidden an empty backpack and spare clothes in the manor where the lavish party had been held. On the way to pick it up, he'd even bumped into Curly, who was still downing the champagne like water. 

"You fucked Shane!" he chanted, lounging among the plants in his finery like the vodka aunt version of a fairy godmother. "You fucked Shane! And now you lost the case!"

"I didn't lose the case." Ryan decided to leave his coworker there, quickly pulling on his black jumper, shrugging on the backpack. "I'll get you later."

"I want to stay here forever."

"Okay then. Bye!"

So he'd driven off, a good few miles away from the hotel Shane was stranded in. There was no way Shane would make his way across the town to him on time. Ryan slipped down off the bonnet, tucking Shane's yearly diary into his backpack with the contents of the case. Then he paused, looking at the car. Typically, he'd torch it. Leave no trace. But he had some memories of his own in that car, memories consisting of Shane and his hands and his body and their mouths glued together, and the windows fogged up so that the outside world didn't even seem to exist. Ryan decided against torching it. 

He chucked the keys into the gutter a few meters down, heading off towards the town center. It was a quaint little place, in the French countryside. He expected a baker to stick his head out of a boulangerie and yell " _bonjour monsieur!_ " at him as he wandered down the street. He wasn't really wandering, actually. He was walking with a bit of a skip in his step, holding onto the straps of the bag over his shoulder, like a child going home from school on a Friday afternoon. He'd won. He'd won by cheating just a little bit. But it wasn't like Shane hadn't cheated before. All the time. And really, they shouldn't even be playing a game with this stuff. They were meant to be _working_. But history always finds a way to repeat itself. 

The steps down to the town square were cut into the small hill. From here, the town was a straggled mess of paths through old stone buildings. The sort of town where you were either born there, or you were never going to find your way around. Lots of low stone walls, high brick ones, cafés with their seating areas scattered around the cobblestone, occupied by families and old people and young couples and one smiley assassin. Ryan wove through them, still smiling to himself. It had been a _very_ good night, and it was now a good morning.

The distant whirring was what caught his attention. He paused amid the small chattering crowd, half-turning to look at the faraway dot. It wasn't a rescue helicopter. No, it was black, and sleek, and coming right towards the town.

"He wouldn't," whispered Ryan to himself, eyes narrowing at the helicopter. 

But who was he kidding? Shane, most definitely, would. And even though Ryan kept telling himself that _he wouldn't, it's too far, it's stupidly dramatic_ , he still started running. Because he knew that if you cheated Shane, Shane would cheat you back twice as hard. The townspeople had started looking at it too, at how close it was coming, how low. So low that the foliage was whipping in the wind from the spinning blades. And if they looked just that bit closer, they'd see a tall man in a white shirt, down on one knee, with a very expensive sniper rifle balanced on his shoulder as he peered through the sight. 

"There you are," muttered Shane, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the black-clothed figure flying through the crowd. "Little bastard."

Ryan went right towards a wall, a tall whitewash one. And as if it was just as easy as walking, he scaled it, rolling over the top, disappearing over the other side. The few townspeople who saw gasped. 

"Woaaah." Steven sounded appropriately impressed, immediately taking after him, leaving it to Shane to spot the guy. "Holy shit. He's like a little spider monkey."

"Yeah. There's pros and cons to that." Shane straightened up, holding onto the roof handle, squinting at the darker side streets. "And at times like this, I don't know if the pros are worth it."

Ryan flew through the streets, hearing the steady _thwump-thwump-thwump_ of the blades getting louder, the dead leaves and dust beginning to swirl in the wind, his hair ruffling. "Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck."

And then it was above him, blocking out the sunlight, swerving wildly above the roofs, so loud it was deafening. Ryan's feet pounded the cobblestones, not even pausing as he heard the high-pitched _ping_ of a bullet hitting stone. Shane was fucking with him. If he wanted to shoot something, he'd shoot it. And if he wanted to miss something, he'd have to do it on purpose. He was a hawk, both regarding his eyes and his looks. Ryan stumbled slightly as the bullet grazed his shoulder, stinging, just enough to draw blood. _Alright. Alright, fuck you_.

"He's gone into a dead end!" Shane had to shout over the propellers, taking a leisurely stroll to the opposite side of the helicopter, his hair whipping wildly. "Bring it low, Steven."

"Sir yes sir."

It was brought so low that the rudders almost brushed the flat roof below. Shane held onto the roof handle, placing the sniper aside, taking his good old-fashioned pistol from his belt. But he'd just placed a foot on the landing skid when, to his shock and his horror, Ryan appeared over the edge of the rooftop, hauling himself up onto it. He must've bounced up the walls like Mario. But Mario never looked quite so angry.

"How the fuck?" Shane stared with wide eyes as Ryan sprinted across the rooftop towards him, with enough intense focus to put Bruce Willis in _Die Hard_ to shame. "God da-"

"Shane!" Steven sounded concerned, throwing an alarmed look over his shoulder at where Shane still stood in the doorway, an easy target. "Shane, take the shot!"

Shane blinked himself out of his stupor, raising the gun. And Ryan propelled himself off the landing skid, and caught him with a flying tackle that would've taken down a tree. They went clean out the opposite door, and the landing knocked the air out of both of them. They tumbled across the stone, skidding to a halt a few feet apart. Ryan rolled onto his front, eyes already focused on where Shane was on his back, coughing for air, eyes squeezed shut as he held his stomach. 

" _Yeeeehaw!_ " Steven brought the helicopter a bit higher, locking the altitude so he could watch out the window. " _You're gonna get your ass kicked, and you deserve it for making me come down here at seven in the fucking morning_."

Shane pushed himself to one knee, watching Ryan a few feet away. The shorter man was already back upright, undeterred by the scratches now evident on his arm from the landing. He was bouncing lightly on the spot, shaking out his hands before raising them, a true professional in the ring. The backpack had been tossed aside for now, to be collected when ready. Shane straightened up, rolling his shoulders, knowing he was a tiny bit fucked.

"Steven," he muttered, raising his own fists as Ryan came towards him. "I hate you."

" _Make sure he keeps his guard up_ ," came Sara's input. " _He always forgets_."

Shane did always forget. Just like now. He left a tiny gap between his arms, just enough for Ryan to slip a punch through. It hit him hard in the chest, forcing him back a few steps as he placed a hand over the place that'd been struck.

"Jesus, Ryan! My fucking sternum."

"You tried to shoot me!"

Ryan threw another sharp right hook, which Shane actually managed to block, the impact jarring his arm all the way to his shoulder. Ryan immediately threw another, not quite managing to land it, but forcing the taller man backwards again. 

"If I'd tried to shoot you, you'd be _dead_ ," replied Shane, catching hold of the next punch, pulling the shorter man forwards, driving his shoulder forwards to meet his face. Ryan stumbled against him upon impact, his free hand grabbing his shirt. "I either shoot you or I don't. So stop being dramatic."

"Stop being dramatic?" Ryan grabbed a fistful of the taller man's hair, wrenching his head aside, forcing a curse from his mouth. "You got a _chopper_ here to try and catch me!"

"I don't- _AH_ , fuck you!" He doubled over as Ryan's knee connected with his side, feeling Ryan swiftly catch him in a firm headlock. "You cheated!"

Ryan drove his knee up into the other man's midriff again. Shane's hand grabbed a fistful of Ryan's black jumper, the other took a firm hold of the knee still pressed into his stomach, and he pushed up and forwards, efficiently throwing Ryan to the ground. Ryan grunted as he hit the stone, his shoulders skidding slightly. Shane was on top in seconds, cursing as Ryan suddenly slapped him.

"Don't fucking slap me, Ryan! You _know_ that turns me on."

Ryan ignored this, slapping him again, the opposite direction.

"God fucking da- Great, now I have a fucking boner." Shane caught hold of the other man's hands, pulling them towards him. "Quick, choke me."

And despite the situation, Ryan laughed. Shane also cracked a grin, still holding the other man's wrists tightly. 

" _Get the case!_ " shouted Sara in his ear. " _What the fuck is your problem, man!_ "

 _He's hot. That my problem_. Shane pinned Ryan's hands down to the warm stone above his head, having to put his weight into it to do so. "You've gotten stronger."

"No I haven't." Ryan let his leg slip up along the other man's hip, his side, pulling his shirt up. He kept his eyes on the other man's, an unashamedly sultry look. "You've just gotten weaker."

Shane barely hesitated. He lowered himself against him, their mouths meeting in a hard, passionate kiss. He felt Ryan relax under him, their bodies flush together. Shane kept a hold of the other man's wrists regardless. There was no way he was going to get punked now, not while he was currently punking Ryan. He felt Ryan's body suddenly tense again under him, bucking slightly. Which meant he'd seen.

"No! No, not fair!" Ryan struggled to free himself, seeing Steven dancing back towards the chopper, the backpack swinging from one shoulder. "That's fucking cheating, Shane!"

"Yeah. It is." Shane gave him a light kiss, a quick one, a peck. He smiled. "Don't hate the player, hate the game, little guy."

Steven returned with a pair of handcuffs, passing them to Shane. Ryan glared at them as he was pushed onto his front, Shane pulling his arms behind his back, slipping the cuffs on. Then he hesitated. Steven and the package were on the helicopter. He was holding Ryan down. And he knew full well that even with his wrists cuffed behind his back, Ryan would still be able to give him a run for his money in a fight.

"You know, sometimes I think I should invest in one of those things that animal patrol use to get vicious dogs in their vans." Shane slowly got to his knees, keeping one hand on Ryan's back to hold him down. "Those collars on sticks. You know them?"

"Yeah. I know them." Ryan didn't sound too amused, his flat glare fixed on the bit of town he could see. "I'm not gonna chase you, Madej. You win."

"Yeah?" Shane quickly stepped away from him, backing towards the chopper, his shirt and hair whipping in the wind. "It was great seeing you, Ryan. Really great."

Ryan rolled onto his back, sitting upright. But he didn't stand up. "Yeah. Great seeing you too."

"And you can keep the car!" he called, stepping up into the helicopter, holding the roof handle for balance. "I know it must be very special to you. I mean, how many orgasms did you have in that thing?"

Ryan sat where he was, a good few meters away, but his unimpressed look was clear as day. "Bye, Shane."

"Bye Ryan!" He blew him a kiss, letting his arm sweep aside as he did so. "I miss you already, baby!"

* * *

"Well?"

Shane lounged on the couch, flicking through the stations on the plasma TV. "Well what?"

McClintock strode into view, hands on his hips. "Well where the fuck did you disappear to all night?"

Shane looked at him for a long moment. "I got the job done. So I went back to where I was staying."

"Without telling anyone, huh?"

"I don't _have_ to tell anyone where I am."

"And you were all alone, were you?"

"Blissfully so." Shane gave him a pointed look before going back to the television. "I don't know why you called me here, man. I did the job. I got the shit. And I looked good while doing it."

McClintock nodded, fixing his waistcoat around his wide belly. "I'll tell you why I called you here. I actually have a list."

"Wahey."

McClintock took the remote from Shane's hand, turning off the TV. "Number one; why were you talking to Ryan Bergara? Number two; why did you and Ryan Bergara vanish almost simultaneously? And three; why did you call for the chopper this morning at seven?"

Shane went quiet, hands linked behind his head as he remained lazing on the couch. "To answer the first one; we talked because we know each other. We used to be partners for God's sake, man. The second one; coincidence. And the third was just for fun."

"You called for the chopper for fun."

"Mmhmm."

"Then where did your car go?"

Shane paused. "Crashed it. Whoops."

McClintock rolled his eyes. "Well what about the fucking dead guy, Madej?"

Shane sniffed, taking a while to answer. "I'm unaware of this dead individual."

"Found floating in the river twenty feet from the manor. Bullet wound in the head." McClintock raised his bushy eyebrows. "You're telling me you don't know? Because neither Sara, or Steven, or Jazzmyne know either."

Shane sat upright, swinging his legs around to land on the floor. "Listen, man. Why are you interrogating me here, as if I don't fucking work for you? As if I didn't do my job perfectly?"

"Did you have sex with Ryan Bergara, yes or no?"

Shane laughed in a flippant manner he hoped was convincing. "... _No_! No, I didn't- Ew. Him? Blergh."

"Blergh?"

"His face just..." Shane mimed strangling someone. "Makes me wanna kill him."

"He's a good-looking guy, Madej." McClintock took a piece of paper from his back pocket, handing it over. "And if you wouldn't mind explaining some of these very flirtatious lines recorded on your mic last night, that would be great."

Shane took the piece of paper, but he didn't unfold it. He kept his gaze fixed on his employer's, holding the paper like it was a dirty napkin. "I don't have to explain anything to you."

McClintock sighed heavily, giving his thick salt-and-pepper beard a scratch. "Anyone else. You could have sex with literally anyone else but him. You can't _trust_ him, Madej!"

Shane looked at him, long and hard. Then he unfolded the piece of paper. And he read it. And each line was more incriminating than the one before it. Until the feed cut off at 11:32pm, and wasn't turned back on until 7:14am. The hours between which were just for him and Ryan to know, to experience, to have to themselves. He closed his eyes at the palpable memories, of Ryan's breath hot against his skin, his fingers digging into him, their bodies sliding against each other, Shane's face buried in the other man's shoulder. He could still feel him. He could still hear him, and see him. It was infuriating.

He tossed the paper aside, leaning forwards, his elbows on his knees, hands linked behind his ducked head. The image of defeat. There was a silence. Then McClintock sat down beside him, placing a meaty hand on his shoulder. Shane didn't look up.

"I know it's hard for you, Shane," he said quietly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "But it's just the way things happened."

Shane rubbed his hands down his face, letting them rest in front of his mouth, almost like he was praying. His gaze was lowered. "I know. I'm sorry."

"No, don't say sorry. It's... It's hard when things end like that."

Shane looked away, hiding his face. "I won't do it again."

McClintock didn't reply. He didn't know what to say. Yes, it was important that Shane didn't continue his risky affair with the enemy, but it was also painful to watch him try to end it. Everyone knew that Shane and Ryan hadn't just been 'partners'. They'd basically dated. Neither of them ever confirmed it, or labelled it - a bad habit to have in their line of work - but it was everything a relationship should be. And when Tinsley and McClintock split their firms over irreconcilable differences, that had been that. Ryan went with Tinsley, and Shane went with McClintock. But here they all were, years later, still dealing with the aftermath.

"You did good, Madej. You got the case."

The case. The case that had been so enticing, but now was of complete unimportance to him. Just a tape of a politician drunk at a party, saying very un-political things. "Yeah."

The talk was over. Shane closed the door to McClintock's condo behind him, closing his eyes. Well, he'd fucked that up entirely. But what was he even doing, thinking that he'd get away with it? That no one would notice him slip away, disappear, like every other time _he_ turned up.

"God damnit, Ryan." 

* * *

"So you two didn't do anything."

Ryan placed a hand on the punching bag, steadying it as he threw Andrew a flat look. "No. We didn't do anything."

"Then where did you go, huh? Was it anything to do with that dead guy in the river?"

"Yeah. I had to hide." Ryan laid back into the heavy bag, wishing his coworker would just go away, leave him alone with his thoughts. "I don't know where Shane went."

"How'd you lose the case?"

Ryan hit the bag so hard it swung, forcing him to catch it, to steady it again. The leather was warm under his fingers. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Oh, I saw Steven, by the way."

"Cool. How is he."

"He's dyed his hair blonde."

"Yeah. He always wanted to do that." Andrew took another sip of his juice carton. "Is that how the conversation went with Tinsley, too?"

Ryan went quiet, thinking back to the pep talk from his boss. It had been more like an intervention, like Shane was some hard drug that Ryan just had to quit before it killed him. He blinked; maybe that metaphor was a bit too accurate for his liking. He decided not to reply, going back to the punching bag, trying to ignore the slurping of Andrew's juice carton. He'd underestimated Shane - again - and lost because of it. And maybe, _just_ maybe, he was picturing Shane as he fired punch after punch into the bag. But it wasn't Shane being suave, or smooth, or bitingly sarcastic. It was Shane's warm body laying on top of him, the sheets wrapped around them as they devoured each other, hoping to get a fix that would last for the next few months. Or however long until they'd see each other again. Ryan didn't even notice his punches growing in intensity as he recalled the feeling of Shane's mouth working against his neck, the man's low moans, the hardness of his back under Ryan's hands. _Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you-_  

"Really venting your anger there, Ryan," he said flatly. "Make sure you don't fuck that bag. That tall bag." Another slurp. "I'd say it's around six-four. Would you?"

Ryan let his shoulders slump, wandering back a few steps, panting for air. "Jesus, Andrew. What do you want?"

Andrew shrugged. "I don't know. I'm bored."

Ryan readjusted the straps on the fingerless gloves, looking at the floor. _Might as well tell someone_. "...I did sleep with Shane. Again."

"Ooh, I'm shocked." Andrew took another drink of his juice, as cool as if he was smoking a cigarette. "You just can't stay away, can you?"

Ryan went to throw another punch into the bag, but he just couldn't. His hand landed against it, resting there. "It's... It's hard. It's really hard. When I see him I just..."

"Melt?"

Ryan moodily pulled the gloves off. "No. No, I don't 'melt'."

"Does he light a fire within you?"

"Shut up, dude. You're not helping." Ryan moved towards the door, refusing to look at the small ring that he and Shane used to use for practice. 'Practice'. More like the first time they realized how physically attracted they were to each other. "I'm going home for the day. I'm tired."

"Barely slept last night, hm?"

"Shut up."

* * *

" _I don’t do the whole fighting bit a lot.”_

_“Yeah. No shit.”_

_“Oh don’t be so harsh, Bergara.” Shane slipped an arm around the shorter man’s waist, pulling him forwards against him. “I’m a lover. Not a fighter.”_

_“You’re a pain in the ass, that’s what you are.” Ryan went to step away, feeling Shane’s arm tighten around his waist, quite surprised at the taller man’s strength. He was keeping him in place no problem. “Come on, Madej. Don’t make me polish the floor with your face.”_

_“Mm. Try.” It wasn’t exactly a challenge. Shane just seemed genuinely interested in whether or not the shorter man could do it. “I’ll time you. I’ll-”_

_Ryan had him flat on his back before he could even process what he was going to say. Shane blinked, pushing himself up on his elbows as he tried to piece together what had just happened; Ryan’s leg hooked around his, a sharp shove in his chest, and he was down. It was almost-_

_“Disappointing, Madej.” Ryan smiled down at him, rolling up his black sleeves to his elbows. “How are you even still alive?”_

_Shane took the offered hand, not letting go of it once he’d straightened back up again. “Wits, Bergara. And charm. And irresistible good looks.”_

_“What’s that?” asked Ryan in genuine confusion, cupping his ear. “Is that… Is that the sound of you tooting your own horn?”_

_Shane smiled, his teeth catching on his bottom lip. “Mm. Really, Ryan. You’re a man after my own heart.”_

_“I’m not after your heart.”_

_“Oh? What are you after, then?”_

_Ryan looked away from the blatant flirtatious smirk on the taller man’s face. “C'mon, dude. I’m meant to be teaching you how to not get your ass kicked.”_

_“I know how to not get my ass kicked,” replied Shane flippantly, still holding the shorter man’s wrist. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some more time with you. One-on-one, so to speak.”_

_“Ah. Man-to-man.”_

_“Precisely.” Shane pulled him forwards again, deftly spinning him as he did so, Ryan’s shoulders bumping back against his chest. He placed his hands on the shorter man’s hips, nice and tight. “Just me and you. And an empty room. And some very conveniently-placed storage units.”_

_Ryan rolled his eyes as he felt one of the taller man’s hands travel up his waist, tracing across his stomach, moving lightly up his chest. Frustratingly slow. “You ever break a hand before?”_

_“Why? Are you going to show me what it feels like?” He let his fingers linger over Ryan’s chest, smiling at the racing heart he could feel. “I don’t think you will.”_

_“You think wrong.”_

_“Oh, I doubt that.” The hand continued its exploration, fingertips brushing up along Ryan’s neck, tracing along his jaw. “C'mon. Loosen up a little.”_

_“If I loosen up anymore, I’ll be fired.” Ryan turned his head to give the taller man a sidelong look, one eyebrow raised. “How’s about you tighten up a bit?”_

_“Oh, Ryan,” he said quietly, right into the shorter man’s ear. “Wordplay is a massive turn on for me.”_

_“Ah. Is it.”_

_Shane’s other hand finally moved off his hip, pushing around to settle just above Ryan’s belt. His fingers lazily pulled the shorter man’s top up, just enough to allow them room to slip under, to the skin beneath. He felt Ryan swallow, his shoulders tense up._

_“You’re nervous,” said Shane in a low voice, feeling one of Ryan’s hands settle on top of his. He didn’t pull the hand away, however. “You get nervous too easily.”_

_“No I don’t.”_

_“You might be able to fight off whatever amount of henchmen you want,” continued Shane, seeing that Ryan was still watching him with a sidelong gaze. “But psychologically? You’re easy pickings, little guy.”_

_Ryan bit down on his lip as he felt Shane’s hand push further down, fingers slipping under his belt, making him feel as if he’d been quite literally shocked. His hand grabbed Shane’s wrist, holding it in place. “I think that’s enough.”_

_“You won’t be able to say that in the field. You should know that by now.” Shane suddenly pushed him away, rolling up his sleeves more firmly as Ryan turned to glare at him. “Let’s flip this around. How about I show you some things.”_

_“As if you have anything to show me.”_

_“You wouldn’t even know where to begin, Ryan.” Shane began circling him, slowly. “You’re jumpy. You’re nervous. Just because I touched you.”_

_“I’m not jumpy,” muttered Ryan, making sure he stayed facing the taller man. “I’m fine.”_

_“Physical fighting is in the past, Ryan.” Shane grinned at him as he tapped his head. “It’s all up here now. Psychological warfare.”_

_Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. As if your brain is gonna pop out and stop me from kicking your ass.”_

_“Fair. But you want to know the difference between the physical and the psychological?” Shane raised an eyebrow, waiting for the answer that he knew wouldn’t come. “The pain caused by physical fighting hurts for a little while. But a single conversation, if played correctly, can cause pain for the rest of your life. Like the power of suggestion.” He suddenly put one hand out, Ryan automatically moving to defend himself. “See? You expected me to attack you. And your expectation affected your behavior.” He put his other hand out, moving the two like weighing scales, raising an eyebrow. “And suggestions affect your expectations.”_

_Ryan was listening now. He could see it; his shoulders were relaxed, his eyes fixed on the taller man’s. “I guess that makes sense.”_

_“Oh, it does. Think about it. I tell you 'hey, Ryan, go get a bag of popcorn from the kitchen. It's under the second cupboard in a red bag'. You're gonna go 'no problem Shane, I'll do that because I love you'-"_

_"I don't think that's how it'd go."_

_"-and then you'll go, and you take out the bag, and since you're expecting popcorn, you just open it up. Then boom, it's actually chips. And you're stunned. And then I come up behind you with a frying pan and put it right into your skull, killing you instantly."_

_Ryan stayed silent for a long moment, one eye narrowed. "Did that actually happen to you once or...?"_

_"Irrelevant." Shane wandered to a halt just a foot away, hands on his hips, looking down at him from under heavy lids. "I just think we could teach each other a lot, Ryan. You have something to offer me, and I have something to give back. We could get a little symbiosis going here."_

_Ryan swallowed, his gaze flickering to the taller man's mouth. "And do you want that?"_

_Shane's smile slipped, replaced by a much more serious look. Serious, and hungry. His voice was low, just for them to hear."More than anything."_

_Ryan stepped forwards, closing the small space left between them. He placed a hand on the back of the taller man's neck, his own head tilted back, their lips brushing. Shane's hands settled on the shorter man's hips, his eyes closing as he felt Ryan's breath hot against his skin._

_"Ding ding ding! Do not do that!" Steven stood in the doorway to the training room, his partner just behind him. "Take it somewhere private, would you?"_

_Andrew rolled his eyes. "Hormones. I can fucking smell them."_

_"Well that's kind of weird."_

_Ryan slipped out of the taller man's arms, avoiding his gaze. He felt like a teenager, all blushy and shy. "Goodnight, Shane."_

_Shane leaned against the ropes, watching the shorter man slip out, get down off the ring. "Goodnight, Ryan."_

_Andrew pushed for Steven to leave. "And goodnight, you cockblocker."_


	3. Resistance is Futile

Ryan didn’t sleep. Not a wink. He had too many thoughts flying around his head, like so many pieces of paper in a hurricane. He took his phone, and did what he always did whenever he missed Shane. He read through their old texts. Not their  _old_ old texts from years ago. But the drunken ones Shane always sent him. The ones that showed that even though they went months without seeing each other, or talking, they were always in the back of each other's minds. Behind a locked door that could only be opened with tequila. Ryan tossed his phone aside, flopping back in the bed, hands over his face. He sighed long and loud, until his lungs didn't have any more air in them. Then he sat upright, took his phone, and sent a stupid, stupid text.

  _Are you awake_

Shane replied almost instantly.

_are you seriously sending me a ‘you up’ text? because yes i am down for whatever you’re about to ask_

Ryan rolled his eyes, wondering if he should even reply _._

_yeah… i think we should talk_

_..._

_oh no don’t like that_

_..._

_are you in LA?_

_..._

_yeah i was in mcclintock’s_

_..._

_meet me at that 24 hour cafe place_

_..._

_okay_

Ryan got up, pulled on a jumper, took a moment to look himself straight in the eye in the mirror. Convince himself to stay focused. Tinsley had been serious during their little talk. _'You vanish with Madej again, and that's it. That's it for you'_. Ryan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, let it out. _It's just Shane. Shane's just a man. A normal guy. Who's funny and charming and incredible in bed_. He mentally cursed himself, pacing for a moment in his room, hands on his hips. He liked his job. It was fun, and exciting, and even though it scared the shit out of him sometimes he still wouldn't give it up for anything.

Anything.

Ryan bit his lip worriedly, looking at himself in the mirror.

... _Anything_.

 

* * *

Shane remembered meeting him. He remembered first seeing him, and then talking, and then... then the twist. The event that made him realize that maybe, finally, he'd met his match. He'd just finished a mission, this time to recover someone's stolen money from a mob boss. A small task. A mundane one. Not even really in his line of work. It was in a dark, gloomy, smoky underground bar, and he'd just ordered a drink, when something had grabbed his attention. And that 'something' was Ryan Bergara, leaning against the bar, just a few feet away. His eyes met Shane's instantly, and Shane vividly remembered the feeling of his heart skipping multiple beats. An internal  _oh fuck_. And Shane was never one to miss up on a face like that. So he didn't look away as he sipped his drink, thinking just how wonderful the timing was; he'd just tossed the bag of cash into the shady motel he was living in for the night, and had come back just so that his absence wouldn't be noted. It was perfect. It was too perfect. He should've known.

Half an hour later, and they were in the shady motel. Ryan hadn't wasted any time at the bar. Even now, Shane couldn't forget how Ryan wrapped him around his finger so quickly and so smoothly it gave him whiplash. The shorter man was full of smiles, of flirty touches, of suggestive looks, not holding back in any regard. Shane had thought he'd struck gold. 

* * *

_He let Ryan into the room first, slipping his own tie off over his head, loosening his collar. His eyes were stuck to Ryan, to this beautiful man who was soon going to be under him. Ryan went to the radio, switching it on, beginning to let his hips sway from side to side in time to the song. A song Shane would then never forget. 'Cry To Me'. To this day, he simultaneously loved it and hated it._

_"You dance?" asked Ryan, turning slowly, rolling up his shirt sleeves._

_Shane smiled at him, at the bouncing sway of the shorter man's dancing. "Not really. But I would with you."_

_Ryan returned the flirty smile, even as the taller man came to a halt barely a foot away. "That's great. Because-"_

_It was his reflexes that saved him from going down straight away. Shane's arm shot up to block the sharp punch thrown right at him, his eyes widening in alarm. Suddenly, he didn't want to dance at all. Ryan came at him again, throwing quick, precise shots, forcing the taller man back step-by-step. Shane managed to block each one, knowing that his arms were going to be covered in bruises in the morning, because damn this guy could throw a punch. Shane would've hit him back, if he got the chance. Which he didn't. The shorter man wasn't just some crazy guy. He was a trained professional, that much was very clear. Ryan finally landed one, a hard right hook below the ribs, with enough force to drive Shane back against the wall with a growled curse. Shane took the next few blows, teeth gritted, keeping his arms raised to defend his head as the air was forced from his lungs, punch by punch, his back hitting against the wall with each one. Then he ducked forwards, ramming his shoulder directly into Ryan, forcing him to stumble back a few steps, putting some space between them._

_Shane took this time to catch his breath, a hand resting on his stomach as he pushed himself away from where he'd swiftly gotten cornered. He pondered his choices. One was to fight this guy, and lose, and maybe die. The other was to just give up, and give the guy whatever he was there for. Which was undoubtedly the only thing of value in the room; the stolen cash. Shane circled him, keeping his distance, keeping his fists raised, matching the shorter man's stance._

_"This isn't really fair," said Shane around his panted breaths, eyes narrowed. "There's a lot more of me to hit."_

_"You're also just not that good at fighting."_

_"I'm better at fucking."_

_Ryan spared a dry smile at this. "Yeah, not tonight, pal."_

_"What night suits you?" Shane swerved around the next punch, getting closer, watching for any opening in the shorter man's defense. "Because I really was quite looking forward to it."_

_Ryan raised an eyebrow. "That's very sad. But I think you'll get over it."_

_Shane blocked the next punch, firing back one of his own, and to his surprise, it actually landed. He hit Ryan hard across the face, swiftly landing another, gaining ground for once. Ryan quickly put a stop to that. He caught hold of Shane's arm, ducking under it, twisting it hard._

_"Ow!" Shane was forced to double over, just to stop his arm from snapping. "Watch my fucking radius, you prick."_

_"Which one is that? Is it this one?"_

_Shane dropped to one knee as the pain shot through the inside of his arm, all the way to his elbow. His other hand grabbed hold of the set of drawers beside them for balance. "Fuck me, how do you- How did you do that?"_

_"And then there's the ulna-"_

_"Owowowow." Shane's hand slipped from the drawers to land on the carpet, fingers digging into it. "I get it. I get it. Jesus, if teachers taught biology like this, kids would never forget it."_

_"And the humerus." Ryan placed a knee on Shane's shoulder, ready to push it down. "I apologize for this, by the way. You do seem like a great guy."_

_Shane didn't get to reply. Unless a loud, drawn-out, and pain-filled 'FUUUUUCK' counts as a reply. Ryan drove his knee downwards, twisting Shane's arm as he did so, deftly popped the bone from its socket. Shane fell back against the drawers, clutching his dislocated shoulder, panting for breath._

_"Now where's the cash."_

_Shane had his eyes squeezed shut, willing himself not to let the tears fall. "Fuck, fuck, what's your- What's your number?"_

_Ryan grinned at this, standing over the other man still slumped on the floor. "I don't think so, guy."_

_"Then who sent you?" Shane decided against trying to stand up, simply remaining where he was, feeling sorry for himself. "Scarlett Johansson's Black Widow?"_

_"Stop making me laugh." Ryan crouched down in front of him, elbows resting on his knees. "Just tell me where the cash is, and I'll be out of your life."_

_Shane raised an eyebrow at this. "Maybe I don't want that."_

_"Are you stupid or just crazy?"_

_"I, myself, would say stupid." Shane sat more upright against the drawers, wincing as his arm complained with the movement. "C'mon. You didn't feel a bit of a spark here?"_

_Ryan rolled his eyes, despite the stifled smile on his face. "It doesn't matter. I'm here to do my job. So where's the cash."_

_Shane nodded towards the drawers behind him. "In here. Second one from the top."_

_Ryan straightened back up, opening it, taking out the bag and slipping it over his shoulder. Then he crouched back down, searching the other man's eyes, closely. Shane stared back, oddly breathless._

_"Maybe we'll meet again. Under more acceptable circumstances."_

_Shane nodded, the pain in his arm suddenly numb to him. "I'd like that."_

_"I think I'd like it too."_  

Shane lifted his gaze from his coffee as the opposite chair was pulled back. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Ryan sat down across from him, avoiding his eyes. He had to. “I’m- I’m just gonna cut to it. I think- I think-”

“You think we have to seriously end this,” said Shane quietly, his gaze lowered, watching his cooling coffee. “For real.”

Ryan went quiet. “Yeah. Just…"

"Tinsley?"

"Yeah. Yeah, but he's right."

"I know. That's why this sucks."

"...We could still be friends.” The words were said weakly, with no real conviction.

“I couldn’t.” Shane raised his eyes to look at him before deciding against it, knowing that looking the other man in the eye would just make this all the more difficult. “I can’t just be friends with you, Ryan.”

“That’s why this is always so fucking difficult.” Ryan buried his face in his hands, sighing heavily. “If we end this, for real, that’s it.”

“We won’t be able to see each other anymore. At all.” Shane sat back, arms folded across his chest. “But we’d have to. Due to work.”

Ryan bit his lip worriedly as he looked at him, fingers tapping out an agitated rhythm on the table between them. “Fuck, I know. It’s just fucking unfair at this point. I mean, how did we end up like this? In this situation?”

Shane snorted. “McClintock and Tinsley. The twins from hell.”

Ryan spared a small smile. “Yeah.”

Both of them went quiet, remembering the night before the final split. Their one serious fight. The shouting, and the cursing, and the panic at what would happen if they both chose separate sides. The desperate attempts at trying to convince the other to see it their way. It hadn’t worked. They were evenly matched in almost every aspect, including stubbornness. Unfortunately.

“I…” Shane closed his eyes, his head resting in his hand. “I don’t want to end this.”

“But- But what even  _is_ this? What are we doing?” Ryan spread his hands, earnest. “I mean, we don’t talk for months. Then we run into each other while working, and then we hook up, and then we get upset and try and talk it out and then it just  _starts all over again_.”

Shane nodded slowly, half-heartedly raising a finger to push his glasses up. “Yeah. Bit of a, uh, a waste of time. Isn’t it.”

"Yeah. I guess we're in a bit of a rut."

Shane sat back, one hand tapping the table, the other resting on his leg. "So what do we do."

Ryan looked at him, their eyes finally meeting. "I don't know. What  _can_  we do."

"Just suffer through it, I guess." 

"Until it ends." Ryan gave his nose a distracted rub, sniffing. "Whenever that'll be."

Shane swallowed hard, looking away. "Do you- Do you want a coffee? I forgot to offer."

"No, it's cool. Thanks." Ryan watched the other man, the unmistakable profile, the pointy nose, the ruffled hair that bounced with even the slightest movement. "How long are you in LA for?"

Shane looked back at him, a sidelong look. "Just for the night."

Ryan nodded. "Cool. Where are you staying?"

Shane didn't reply for a moment. "A friend's."

"Okay."

He checked his watch, clearing his throat. "Yeah, it's late. I should head back."

"Me too."

They got to their feet, still avoiding the other's eyes, knowing that that would be the end of whatever self-restraint they were currently trying to exercise. The café was empty but for them. The barista watched them leave, absent-mindedly wiping a mug she was holding. And she watched them wander off down the dimly-lit, empty street. 

Ryan closed his eyes as their hands brushed, keeping his eyes closed as he felt the taller man slip his fingers through his, familiar yet strange. He didn't pull his hand away. They kept walking in silence, but it wasn't an awkward silence. It was a comfortable one. Shane had always liked that about them. They didn't always have to be chatting and joking and poking fun at each other. Sometimes they could just be. They slowed to a halt at the corner, a few feet from the last streetlamp. Ryan took the taller man's hand, held it in both of his own, gaze lowered. Shane swallowed at the openly sad look.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, willing for the shorter man to look at him. "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have done that."

Ryan didn't reply. He just slipped his arms around the taller man, burying his face into his chest, feeling him, breathing him in. He felt Shane's chin rest on his head, the arms hold him close, and there it was. The feeling that nothing could ever hurt him. And so far, it seemed that nothing actually could hurt him. Apart from the man holding him. Ryan sighed heavily, not wanting to break away. Not yet. Not ever.

"Come to mine," he mumbled into the taller man's chest. "Just one night."

"It's not just one night though. It never is."

"I don't care." Ryan looked up at him, head tilted back. "I can't wait for another whatever fucking amount of months to see you again."

Shane bit his lip hard, looking down at him. "Don't look at me like that, man. Unfair."

Ryan let his gaze drop, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. I know. I'm sorry. I- I'll see you whenever."

Shane reluctantly let him slip away, his hands clenching into fists by his sides as he watched him cross the street, head back towards the apartment that used to basically be his second home. "Ryan."

The shorter man paused halfway across the street, half-turning to look at him. The streetlamp cast half his face in light, the other half in shadows. "Yeah?"

_Don't go_ , he wanted to say. _Don't leave. I need you_. "Goodnight."

Ryan spared him a small smile, already turning away. "Goodnight."

Shane struggled the rest of the way to Sara's, hugging himself, gaze fixed on nothing. And when he finally got in, and collapsed onto the spare bed, and buried his face in the pillow, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. And he didn't. He tossed and turned and tormented himself with thoughts of Ryan, for one hour, two hours, two and a half hours. He wanted to scream into his pillow, to cry himself to sleep. When his phone buzzed, he grabbed it, quickly reading the text.

_I can't sleep. fuck you_

Shane was already out of the bed, pulling on the nearest jumper, buckling his belt as he shouldered the bedroom door open. He sent back a quick text.

_be there in 10_

And he was. And Ryan was waiting impatiently, yanking open the door after two knocks. Shane kicked the door shut behind him as he immediately focused on Ryan, their mouths already working fiercely against each other, bodies flush together as they made their unsteady way to the nearest flat surface.

"I- I need you," breathed Ryan, pulling his t-shirt off over his head, his hands moving to grab hold of the taller man as he felt the first of many kisses being pushed into his neck. "I- Fuck, I- I need- Oh _God_ , I need you."

So he had him, all night and into the morning. It's not like Shane ever exactly resisted. 

* * *

_Shane struck the floor rapidly, eyes squeezed shut. "Jesus fucking Christ, I'm tapping out, you bitch!"_

_The shorter man didn't release Shane's hand, still pushing it backwards, straddling his waist. "You won't be able to tap out in the field, though. Hence the reason I gave you a lovely broken shoulder two, three weeks ago?"_

_"Owowowowow," Shane tried to throw the other man off him, but it only ended in another shock of pain through his arm. "FUCK. Fuck, what the fuck do you want from me, you madman?"_

_"Get out of it." Ryan grinned down at him, raising an eyebrow. "Use your invaluable brain."_

_Shane spared him a dry smile, which didn't last too long considering the situation. "I get it. I get whatever lesson you're trying to teach me here."_

_"I'm serious," shrugged Ryan, the other man's eyes narrowing evilly at him. "This is what training is made up of. You actually have to learn some stuff."_

_"I'm a fucking marksman, when the hell am I gonna be in hand-to-hand comba-AT." His voice rose as Ryan twisted his wrist just that bit further, hitting his head back off the floor of the ring. "Okay. Okay, I- You're gonna break my fucking arm."_

_"Then get out of it," said Ryan firmly, not budging. "Or I will break your arm."_

_"Look at me," said Shane through gritted teeth, eyes still narrowed. "Look at my face. It's going to be the last thing you see before you die."_

_"Jesus. Relax, Cersei."_

_Shane closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Right. Right, how am I- Tell me what to do."_

_"There's nothing you can do." Ryan finally let go of him, sitting back, watching Shane breathe a sigh of relief, feeling him relax under him. "You get in a hold like that, and you're good as dead, dude."_

_Shane sat upright, holding his arm gingerly, examining it like he expected a bone or two to be popping right out. "I don't need this training, Ryan. I mean, look at me. People don't exactly rush to fight a guy my size."_

_"I did," shrugged Ryan, still sitting across the other man's hips. "And I kicked your ass."_

_"Yeah, but then you took the wrong bag because you stupidly believed me when I told you where it was." Shane rolled his eyes, snorting. "Idiot."_

_Ryan glared at him. "You were just lucky."_

_"No, you were just stupid." Shane continued rubbing his sore arm, openly disapproving. "And I made myself a sling out of a pillowcase, and I hauled ass out of there. And because of that I did better than you."_

_"You didn't do better than me. And it doesn't matter anyway."_

_"Oh, now it doesn't matter that our bosses work together?" Shane gave him a small shove, indicating for him to get up. "It sure as hell mattered yesterday."_

_Ryan brushed his hand away. "We're not done here."_

_"Yeah we are. It's definitely been an hour."_

_"It's been fifteen minutes."_

_"Uh, no it hasn't." Shane raised his arm, the watch facing Ryan. "See? Oh wait, don't you fucking-"  
_

_He yanked his arm away before Ryan could grab hold of it, rolling aside, taking the shorter man with him. They rolled once, twice, three times, before Shane suddenly bucked his hips up, throwing Ryan clear off him. Ryan slid across the canvas, looking just a bit impressed. Shane fell onto his front, hands pressed against the canvas below as he breathed heavily. He scrambled to his feet as Ryan came right at him, the shorter man sliding right between his legs. Shane turned, eyes wide, the other man already gone._

_"Where the-"  
_

_The punch hit him sharply in the side, a sneaky jab. Shane whipped around to face the shorter man, fighting the urge to double over, keeping his hands raised as Ryan came towards him, relentless._

_"Keep-" Ryan threw a quick right hook, slipping it behind the taller man's arm to catch him in the side again. "-your guard-" Another one, from the left this time, finally forcing a hissed curse from the other man. "-up."_

_He threw another one, a hard one straight ahead, putting his weight into it. It struck Shane right in the stomach, sending him stumbling against the ropes, falling to one knee as he gasped for air that seemed determined to elude him. He kept a tight hold of the ropes, his other hand clutching his leg, struggling to keep him vaguely upright._

_"Holy fuck," coughed Shane, his hand slipping off the ropes to land on the canvas. "Where the fuck did you learn to punch like that?"_

_"I practiced, Madej." Ryan readjusted the straps on his gloves, flexing his fingers as he did so. "And so should you."_

_Shane looked up at him darkly for a long moment, still breathing heavily. Then he pushed himself back to his feet, using the ropes for help, leaning on them for a minute or so as he caught his breath. Then he turned to face the shorter man, raising his fists, seeing the flicker of a smile on the other man's face. It wasn't exactly a friendly smile. They weren't at that stage yet. It was a smile that said 'finally, I get to physically kick your ass as relentlessly as you verbally kick mine every damn day'. And even from day one, Ryan didn't hold back._

_"You know, it's about time someone knocked Madej down a few pegs," said McClintock to himself, watching from the doorway on the far side of the room. "He was getting a bit too big for his boots."_

_"Marvelous marksman," commented Tinsley, hovering beside him. "I've never seen anyone quite like him. He didn't miss a single target earlier. He did it like he wasn't even trying."_

_"He says it's his nose," said McClintock dryly. "That it's like a shark's tail. It helps him 'steer'."_

_Tinsley watched as Shane was swiftly brought to his knees yet again, tapping out after a minute or so of furious cursing. "Maybe he could teach Ryan some tricks."_

_"I don't think he'll want to after this," replied McClintock. "He's a proud man, and your boy is quite literally rubbing his face in the dirt."_

_"Oh, they'll grow to like each other," said Tinsley, trying to keep the doubt out of his voice. "Eventually."_

_Shane was out of the ring, standing a few feet away from it, clutching his bloodied nose. Above him, Ryan leaned on the ropes, grinning widely to himself._

_"You're fucking insane, and I won't work with you," said Shane firmly, his voice a bit thick due to his nose. "I'm gonna die in there!"_

_"It's just a bloody nose. It's not even broken."_

_"Oh, oh, pardon me, I'm sorry. That's perfectly fine then." Shane yanked off his gloves, using them to gesture angrily at the other man. "You stay away from me, Satan."_

_"Aw, you don't want my number anymore?"_

_Shane looked at him for a long moment, hand frozen mid-gesture. Then he sighed frustratedly, hands moving to rest on his hips as he glared up at him. "Fuck it. I actually still do."_

_"Then you're not stupid, like you said." Ryan smoothly vaulted over the ropes, landing lightly beside the other man, perfectly balanced. "You're just crazy."_

_Shane looked down at the cheeky grin, distractedly wiping away some blood from his nose. "You know what? Meet me at the shooting range in the morning. Ten sharp."_

_The velcro crackled as Ryan undid his gloves, still smiling at him. "Are you asking me out, Madej?"_

_Shane spared a smile, a wry one. "I don't think so, Bergara. But it's about time_ I _schooled_ you _, instead of you constantly kicking my ass."_

_Ryan raised an eyebrow at this, finally slipping his gloves off. He stepped around the taller man, giving him an almost amicable pat on the arm. "You did good today, Shane. Not as humiliatingly awful as every other time."_

_Shane didn't turn around, waiting until the shorter man's footsteps were across the room. He half-turned, watching him disappear out the door. He still didn't move for a moment or so. He didn't make a sound either. And when he did, it was a sigh of a word._

_"Damn."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/1VeykC1307c
> 
> live action of Shane and Ryan next chapter


	4. Horsley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"This is the problem with making a thing forbidden. It does nothing but build an ache in the heart."_

It was a few months later. Things had settled down a little. Even the mission itself. Ryan remained lax against the bar. It was a small, poky, underground one, full of cigarette smoke and the sound of cocktails being shaken. It reminded him of the bar he'd first met Shane in. He quickly distracted himself from these thoughts, scoping out the crowd, looking for the target. A woman this time, called Holly Horsley. Part-time detective, full-time snooper, with a lot of secrets she wasn't supposed to have. 

"Grey hair," said Curly into his ear. "Around five-six, glasses, and always dressed smart. Classy lady. Probably drinking a martini, shaken but not stirred."

Ryan stifled his smile, straightening up off the bar, pretending to check his phone. "I'll have a look around."

"No sign of The Obstacle."

"Stop calling him that."

"The Distraction."

"Shut up."

He found her relatively quickly in the end. She was sitting down, surrounded by black-suited men, hence the reason she hadn't been visible. Ryan headed towards the table, where it appeared they were playing poker, or blackjack, or some other dodgy game. Well, Ms Horsley wasn't. She was smoking a cigarette, watching from behind her thin-rimmed glasses. Watching every move. Ryan paused by the table, pretending to be interested in the game being played. Horsley looked at him, then looked at him again. She pushed her glasses up her nose. 

"Would you like to join?"

Ryan blinked at her. Well, he hadn't expected it to be that easy. "Yes. I suppose I would. Even though I'm not very good at it."

"My games are fair," she said flippantly, gesturing at the seat beside her. "Unlike the rest of them down here. I watch."

"Oh. Okay."

He'd just sat down when he heard the low buzz in his ear, the crackle of incoming information.

"He's here." Curly sounded excited, selfishly so. "Oh damn, Ryan, he's going right over to you."

"What?" Ryan sat up straight in his seat, suddenly realizing he had no idea how to play poker. Or blackjack. Or whatever was going on. "Distract him. Someone distract him."

"Ryan, he-"

The screech of the chair beside him being energetically yanked back was louder than the voice in his ear. The rest of the table glanced up as Shane plonked himself down in the chair, slapping his hands on his knees, leaning forwards, all confidence. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. It looked as if he'd just walked straight off a plane into the bar. He probably had. Ryan closed his eyes in an effort to conceal himself rolling them.

"Hey, how are ya?" Shane smiled at them, ignoring Ryan ignoring him. "Room for one more?"

Horsley paused, cigarette smoke coming from her mouth being the only thing that made it obvious she was still even alive. "And you are?"

"The best goddamn poker player in the entire world." Shane slipped his sunglasses off, using them to point at the chips. "Name's McQueen. Yeah, like the car."

Ryan took a deep breath to prevent a sigh. Which was something he shouldn't have done.

"What's with the sigh, huh?" Shane gave him an offended look, sitting back in his seat. "You got something to say, pal?"

Horsley was now watching them with narrowed eyes, the game she was meant to be observing now just steaming on ahead. There was something off about these two men, and she hated not being able to put a finger on it. 

"No," replied Ryan, giving him a lofty look. "I'm just here to play. Just like you."

"Then let's play, yeah?" Shane put a hand out for the cards being handed to him, but he didn't look at them. "What's your deal, hm? Where you from?"

Ryan gave him a sharp glare. "You- America. I'm from America." _Which is something you already know, you ass_. 

"You sure?" Shane continued playing the obnoxious white man, looking him up and down. "You Spanish?"

"I'm half Mexican," said Ryan with narrowed eyes.

"Oooh. _Delicioso_." Shane grinned at the other man's face. "And what's the other half? China?"

"Japan." _Stop trying to piss me off_.

"And what brings you here tonight, Mister...?"

Ryan finally looked at him fully, leaning towards him slightly. "Goldsworth. Ricky Goldsworth. And I'm here because I wanna win."

Shane's eyebrow quirked ever so slightly at this. "You enjoy winning, Ricky?"

"I love it." Ryan finally fanned out his cards, turning away again. "In fact, I love it so much, I've never lost."

Horsley watched the exchange with suspicious eyes, taking a slow drag on her cigarette. She got to her feet, excusing herself. Shane leaned back in his seat, watching her walk away. But Ryan's hissed words brought him back down with a bump.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

Shane sat forwards again, smiling at him. "Excuse me, Mr Goldsworth?"

"Alright, _McQueen_ ," said Ryan quietly, snapping his cards back into one small pile. "You were watching The Great Escape again."

"You don't know me." Shane absent-mindedly flipped a chip back and forth across his long fingers, his other arm resting across the back of his chair. "And if you don't mind me saying, good sir, you look quite dashing tonight."

"Sha- Stop." Ryan gave him a warning glare, arms folded on the table. The game was continuing without them, anyway. "I'm not doing this with you anymore."

"I'm not me. Not tonight."

Ryan sighed heavily, getting to his feet. "Forget it."

"No, you forget it." Shane also stood up, following the shorter man towards where Horsley had vanished. "Because I have a plan here tonight, little guy. And it involves me, and the lovely Holly Horsley, and a sniper. You're not going to win."

Ryan came to a slow halt at this, letting a passing waiter move between them, tray laden with drinks. "I wouldn't rule myself out quite yet, Madej."

"McQueen."

"Whatever." 

"And I'd rule you out instantly, little guy. You may have the upper hand when it comes to fisticuffs, but I'm superior in every other way." Shane smiled. "Especially hitting targets."

* * *

_Ryan turned his head to look back at him, lifting his clear goggles. “But I hit it.”_

_“Yeah, you hit it. But if that was a person, they’d just be mildly injured.” Shane remained leaning against the edge of the booth, arms folded. “If an attacker is coming towards you or a teammate, you don’t want to just injure them. You want them dead. Or else what’s the point?”_

_Ryan looked at the pistol in his hand, frowning. “Okay. I guess that makes sense.”_

_“Yeah.” Shane nodded towards the target at the end of the range. “Now keep that in mind, and do it again.”_

_Ryan let his irritated gaze linger on him before turning it back to the distant target. He raised the gun, closing one eye, taking a deep breath._

_“Wrong!”_

_The bullet went straight over the head of the target, seeing as Ryan jumped a mile at Shane’s sudden shout. “What the fuck, dude?!”_

_“Wrong,” repeated Shane firmly, moving forwards to stand behind the shorter man. “Don’t close one eye, you tool. That doesn’t help. It’ll get your perception all fucked up.”_

_“But that’s what they do in the movies,” mumbled Ryan, glancing back at him._

_“No, that’s what you do if you’re using a sniper of some sort. Not a handgun. Idiot.”_

_Ryan glared at him. “Stop being so mean.”_

_“Oh, and you listened to my cries for mercy yesterday, did you?” Shane was standing right behind him, just at his shoulder. “You’re gonna learn with me, Bergara. You’re gonna learn good. Now stand like this.”_

_Ryan lowered the gun as he felt the hands take hold of his hips, firmly turning them at an angle. “I- Right, okay. Yeah.”_

_“Up, Ryan.” Shane’s arm reached around to take hold of his wrist, pulling the gun back up, his mouth right beside Ryan’s ear. “Focus. Come on.”_

_“I am focusing,” replied Ryan moodily, his heartbeat beginning to jump slightly at the feeling of the taller man pressed against him. “Stop snapping at me.”_

_“Now shoot,” said Shane, eyes fixed on the target, knowing exactly how to take the head off it in one go. “Go. Shoot. Shoot, Ryan!”_

_“Let me fucking aim!”_

_“You won’t get time to aim in the field,” said Shane dryly, seeing Ryan roll his eyes at the mocking tone. “You have to shoot and aim.”_

_“That’s what I’m doing.”_

_“No, you’re not. You’re aiming then shooting.” Shane slipped his hand under Ryan’s wrist, pushing it back up again, steadying the gun. “Both. Same time.”_

_“How am I supposed to aim a gun and fire it simultaneously?”_

_“Practice,” said Shane, letting the word drag out, flat. “Just like I have to do.”_

_Ryan threw him a withering look over his shoulder, their noses almost bumping off each other. “Right. Back up a bit then.”_

_“And don’t hold your breath.” Shane moved a few feet away, hands on his hips. “That makes you unsteady. Let your breath out before you shoot.”_

_“Okay. Okay, I get it.” Ryan did just that. All of it. Step by step. The bullet went through the target’s neck, the stuffing exploding out of the fabric. He lowered the gun, a delighted smile on his face. “Hey, I did it!”_

_“Congrats,” said Shane flatly, not sounding too impressed. “Now imagine it moving.”_

_Ryan rolled his eyes, letting his shoulders slump. “Look, I hit the stupid target.”_

_“That’s fixed completely in place.” Shane sauntered forwards again, as comfortable in the range as he was in his own home. “You wouldn’t be able to hit a moving one that accurately.”_

_“Uh, yeah I would. Asshole.”_

_“Ryan, I am so confident that you wouldn’t be able to hit a moving target, that I would volunteer to be that target.” Shane rested a hand against the wall behind the shorter man’s head, the other on his hip. “The throat is a messy place to shoot someone anyway. Get them in the eye. It’s immediate.”_

_“In the eye?” Ryan used the gun to gesture at the faraway target. “At this distance?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Bullshit.” Ryan shoved the gun at him, stepping back. “C'mon then. I can tell you’re dying to show off.”_

_Shane spared him a smirk, deftly spinning the gun around one long finger, catching it again. “Try not to swoon too hard, Bergara. I might not catch you.”_

_“Just shoot.”_

_Before Ryan even got to finish his order, Shane did shoot. Three rapid fire ones, an intense look on his face that Ryan had only seen few times before, and usually when they were sparring. It was a look Ryan had swiftly grown to like. A lot. He quickly turned his gaze to the target as Shane smiled at him, all cocky nonchalance, a hand on one jutted hip._

_“See? It’s a surprised face.” The target had three bullet holes in its head; two for eyes, and one for a mouth, all perfectly spaced. “It looks a bit like you right now, Bergara.”_

_Ryan threw him a sidelong look. “Whatever.”_

_“Now stand here,” ordered Shane, handing the gun back over. “And shoot.”_

_Ryan muttered to himself as he did so, raising the gun again, keeping both his eyes open this time. He froze as Shane’s hand rested over his, moving it to cup the handle of the gun. He didn’t take it away._

_“One hand here,” said Shane quietly, voice close. He could feel the taller man's breath against his neck, hot. “And one hand holding the trigger. Alright?”_

_Ryan nodded, swallowing hard. “Alright.”_

_“And relax a bit. You’re all tense.”_

_“I- Oh, okay.” Ryan felt himself flush as the taller man pressed a hand against his lower back, pushing his hips forward, his other hand drawing back his shoulders so that they were aligned. “Okay.”_

_“Relax, Ryan.” Shane’s hand slipped down from his shoulder to rest over his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His other hand had drifted around to hold his hip, nice and tight. “Don’t think about it.”_

_Ryan didn’t move for a long moment. He didn’t pull the trigger. He didn’t speak. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see that Shane was still dangerously close, watching him. The other man’s hand still rested on his bicep, firm, the fingers of his other hand digging into his hip._

_“Focus, Ryan,” said Shane, his smile evident in his voice. “Nothing else matters right now.”_

_“I can’t focus,” muttered Ryan, lowering the gun, Shane’s fingers brushing down his arm._

_“Well that just shows a lack of discipline, doesn’t it?”_

_“You know what you’re doing.” Ryan finally looked at him, right in the eye. Laughing eyes, that had little laughter lines from years of mischief. “It’s unfair.”_

_“Oh, but it’s okay if you do it to me?”_

_“I never-”_

_“There is absolutely no need to move your hips that much when you’re pinning someone down,” said Shane wryly, seeing the flicker of a smile across the shorter man’s face. “You’re basically grinding on me in the middle of the fucking training hall.”_

_“I never heard you tell me to stop,” said Ryan flippantly, turning the safety on on the gun. “In fact, I think you seem to like it.”_

_“I have made clear my thoughts on you right from the get-go, Ryan.” Shane folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall of the small booth, looking down at the shorter man. “I just don’t appreciate you trying to seduce me so sloppily.”_

_“Sloppily?”_

_“Mm.”_

_Ryan raised an eyebrow, setting the gun aside. He knew a challenge when he heard one. “Alright. Let’s just try something out here, hm?”_

_Shane smiled a small smile as the shorter man took hold of his arms, unfolding them, gently but firmly. “Hands-on. Just the way I like it.”_

_“You seem to have forgotten our first meeting,” said Ryan distractedly, gaze lowered as he unbuttoned the other man’s dark shirt. Slowly. “When I had you begging for it in minutes.”_

_“Back then you were just a pretty face, Ryan.” Shane kept his hands raised slightly, watching the shorter man brush back the shirt from his body, slip his warm hands around his sides. “Now I actually know you.”_

_“Ha. Funny.” Ryan let his hands brush down to the taller man’s hips. “You’re looking a bit bruised and battered, aren’t you?”_

_“Courtesy of you, in case you didn’t know.”_

_“No, it’s hot.” Ryan leaned in, pressing his lips against the taller man’s chest, a slow kiss, feeling Shane’s hands take hold of his arms. “Just let me add a few more.”_

_Shane exhaled shakily, closing his eyes as he felt the warm lips against his skin, soft but strong. He rested his head back against the wall, the kisses migrating down the center of his chest to his stomach, just below his ribs. Ryan could feel the muscles stiffening against his lips with each heavy breath, Shane’s grip hard on his arms._

_“Fuck,” breathed Shane, eyes still closed. “Fucking hell, you- Fuck.”_

_Ryan travelled lower, pulling the taller man’s hips forwards for a better angle, tongue brushing his skin. He closed his eyes at the sound of Shane’s moaned curses, the hands making their way from his arms to his hair, fingers tangling in it. Shane’s breaths paused as Ryan did, the shorter man moving down just to plant one light, teasing kiss above the taller man’s belt buckle. The reaction was one he hadn’t quite expected._

_Shane immediately picked the shorter man up, hands firm under his thighs, Ryan’s arms hooking around his neck. He sat Ryan up on the small ledge between the booth and the actual range, the look of intense focus back on his face as he took hold of the other man’s black top, pulling it off over his head, tossing it aside. Ryan barely had time to breathe before Shane’s mouth was on his, pushing his head back, Shane’s hands firm against his back to hold him upright. Ryan took hold of the collar of Shane’s shirt, drawing him in further, their heavy breaths echoing each other as their tongues brushed. It had been nothing but passion, lust, want, all rolled into one hot and heavy make-out session. Ryan had been certain that was all it was going to be; maybe they’d hook up every now and then, vent any frustration on each other. Boy, had he been mistaken._

* * *

"Then let's make a little game out of this, shall we?" Ryan shrugged his jacket off, placing it on a chair they passed. He'd need to be a bit less restricted for what was to come. "I kill her first, then I win. You kill her first, you win."

"And what's the prize?" asked Shane, not even attempting to sound innocent as he followed the shorter man. "The position we use later? Because I definitely propose cowgirl."

Ryan pulled his tie off over his head, tossing it behind him, Shane reflexively catching it. "It's downward dog or nothing."

"Yeah, I'm okay with that."

"Shocker." Ryan turned to face him with a bright smile, still wandering backwards as he unbuttoned his collar. "Hold on, what about that one where you almost died?"

Shane shook his head, deadly serious. "No. No way."

"The one where you had to like, hold me up, and-"

"And then we were both screaming for completely different reasons at the end?" said Shane dryly. "Where your 'oh fucks' were because you came super hard but my 'oh fucks' were because I broke my entire spine?"

"Look, you just had to work on your flexibility," shrugged Ryan.

"Hey, I went all the way through until you came because I'm such a selfless lover," said Shane with a grin, seeing the small smile on the shorter man's face. "Even though I'm pretty sure I slipped a disc."

" _Aw. True love_." Andrew didn't sound all too entertained, however. " _Now cop on, Ryan_."

Ryan rolled his eyes, turning away. "Good luck."

"I don't need luck, Mr Goldsworth." Shane headed the opposite direction, towards the shadowy stairs dug into the wall. "So you can keep it. Because you'll definitely need it."

" _He couldn't hear that, but I could, and it was a good burn_." 

"Thanks, Sara."

" _But also, bad news. Horsley's left_."

Shane paused halfway up the stairs, slowing to a halt. "What?"

" _Yeah. And her guys are starting to scan the place_." A pause. " _Maybe you should find Ryan again_."

Shane glanced back down at the smoky bar, quickly spotting the men in suits starting to nose around. "Hm. Maybe I should."

" _If you don't wanna get your ass whooped, yeah, I'd find him._ "

"I wouldn't get my ass whooped! Why does everyone always think I'm bad at fighting?"

" _You just said you slipped a disc during sex._ "

Shane wove back through the crowd, towards the door he'd left Ryan at. "No, no, I did not say that. The position we were trying just threw my back out a bit."

" _Old man_."

"Just get me some way out of here, would you?" he sighed, turning away from an approaching henchman. "And preferably soon."


End file.
